


The Fall

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Sculpture, artist, nude model, posing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog answers an ad to play Satan for an artist</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

He looked down at the ad that he had pulled off the board at the college one more time, 32 Institute Place. His blue-eyed gaze traveled up the front of the building. It was an old church now converted into a living space by the looks of it. Bog took a breath, blowing it out slowly. The crisp winter air turned his breath into a hazy cloud as he thought about what he was doing; he needed the extra money with Christmas coming up since he wanted to get something special for his mother. 

He muttered to himself, “If you think you look like Satan…” He shrugged. 

“Maybe this ugly mug can finally help me with something.” 

He knocked at the door quickly before he changed this mind. He started to knock again when the door of the church was thrown open. At first he didn’t see anything, but then he cast his eyes downward. He was looking down into the flashing brown orbs of a short, fiery woman with a pixie haircut covered in white dust. She stared up at him with narrowed eyes giving him a very critical look. Then she slowly looked him up and down. 

Bog felt his cheeks start to burn under her intense brown gaze. She was wearing jeans with holes all over them, they looked more like they should be used as rags than actually being worn by someone, a t-shirt that he could only guess the color of, and despite the cold outside, she was bare foot as she stepped outside making a slow circle around him as she inspected him. Bog felt himself flush knowing he was turning bright red, knowing he was being judged as worthy or not. He felt his stomach drop to the sidewalk. Women didn’t look at him, ever. Now a woman was examining him. Women never examined him like this and it was nerve wracking—would he be worthy? Or in this case, unworthy enough to pose as Satan? Kind of a weird thing worrying about being ugly enough to be Satan. 

She did another circuit around him, a little slower. Bog seemed unable to move as her eyes traveled up and down his body. The urge to wrap his arms around himself, to protect himself from her scrutiny was strong, but he fought it as the pixie came back around to face him, a smile on her face. 

“You will make a perfect Satan!” 

Bog frowned, wrinkling his nose. “Thank you…I guess.” 

She cocked her hip putting a hand on it with a nefarious little attitude. 

“I pay ten bucks an hour, can you stay still for up to an hour at a time for the next few weeks?” 

Bog nodded. “Aye.” 

She grinned. “Good, I got some paperwork for you to sign.” 

Bog looked confused. “Ah, so…I’m hired?” 

“Come on, Satan.” 

She turned, strolling into the church. She walked him over to a corner of the large space, pulling back a tarp to reveal an ancient-looking wooden desk with papers scattered all over it. There were some forms on the surface. She flopped down onto the chair, the wheels on it making her roll some as she pulled open a drawer searching through it before she finally held up a pen with a triumphant grin. Over the next twenty minutes, Marianne Summerfield, sculptor, had hired Bog King, part-time bouncer at a local nightclub, to be her model for the Fall of Satan. 

“You got time to get started now?” Marianne smiled. 

He shrugged. “Sure, what do you need me to do?” 

“Well, first you need to strip. I am going to take some pictures first of all.” 

She started to march off into some dark corner of the converted church space. Bog stood there for a moment stunned as his breath exhaled in a surprised, 

“What?” 

She turned around to look at him like he was an idiot. 

“You need to strip. The statue is naked, didn’t I say that?” 

Bog’s mouth fell open. “What?? I…what??” 

She smiled. There was just the slightest wickedness to it as she motioned. 

“So out all of your clothing, nothing, everything you were born with Mr. King. 

Besides, you already signed our little contract.” 

She turned and continued to wherever she had her camera as Bog stood there staring. Oh, shit, what had he done? 

She came back within a few minutes after a lot of cursing and the sounds of rummaging around to find that Mr. King was still in his jeans, though he had taken off his boots and sweater. As she saw his bare back, she was even more pleased with him as her Satan. He had a nice build to go with that rough narrow face of his, sensual lips and a sharp distinctive nose. Marianne didn’t say anything since he hadn’t seemed aware of her coming back, her gaze roaming over his back. She heard him muttering under his breath about how he could do this, she wouldn’t care, it was only for art, no one would know it was him. She thought he was ugly enough to be the devil so… 

Marianne watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off, folding them to set with his sweater. Oh my, she thought to herself, nice legs. He took a deep breath before slipping off his underwear, which caused Marianne’s eyebrows to shoot up. 

Oh, shit! she thought as she looked at his ass. Damn…it was, very, very nice, more than nice, which was saying something since she had seen more than her share as an artist. That was when Bog suddenly turned around. She must have made some sort of sound that alerted him. For a moment she got a glance at the rest of what he had to offer, which caused a spike of something warm that spread out everywhere through her body. Marianne suddenly stood up straight. He was certainly, “hung,” she thought but then, just as quickly, his hands were over his groin and he had turned a very bright crimson. 

She grinned, feeling a blush crawling up her neck before swallowing down her attraction. She thought he was hot when she opened the door, but now she felt a little like she was a director and this was the casting couch. 

“Ah, yeah, I am going to need just a few basic photos. Then next time we can work on poses for the sculpture. You can come by tomorrow, right?” 

Bog, still holding his hands over his groin, nodded. “Ah, yeah—sure.” 

She grabbed the side of her bottom lip with her teeth, motioning him to follow her. She led him to an area set up with some lights, just a clear empty space. She had him stand in the middle of the spot where the lights were focused. He looked so nervous, scared even and clearly embarrassed. He was obviously not aware of how he looked, with his scruffy face, the scars on his chin, those nice wiry muscles. This was going to be the sexiest, most beautiful Satan ever done! 

She took a few pictures, not making him move his hands, focusing on his face, coming in close, taking some profiles focused shots on his chest and back. 

“Okay, I am going to need you to put your arms out for some body shots.” 

Bog swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. He very slowly moved his hands away from his groin, trying not to look at her. She knew she was blushing too. Damn it! So unprofessional!! 

“Can you lift your arms out to your side?” 

He swallowed doing as she asked. She quickly took a series of pictures of his arms, torso, legs, back. 

“Okay, you can get dressed now.” 

Bog walked swiftly to his clothing, throwing them on. Marianne turned her back to him realizing she should have had a robe for him. What was wrong with her? She turned when she heard him get his pants on. 

“I promise it will get easier.” She said it softly. 

He turned to look at her and that was when she really noticed how blue his eyes were. Wow, she thought. How had she missed that? Satan had blue eyes? He gave her an appreciative smile. 

“Thanks. I hope so, not really accustomed to stripping down for anyone but a doctor.” 

She nodded. 

“Yeah, I have had other models and it gets a lot easier. Ah… what time would work for you tomorrow? I like to work at night, is that a problem?” 

As Bog was pulling his sweater over his head, her eyes lingered on his stomach. For a moment, the erotic tempting thought of running her hands down that flat surface came unbidden to her mind. Shit! His head popped through the neck of the sweater. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I work part-time as a bouncer, but only on the weekends. What time?” 

“Say 8?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, that works. Ah, thanks for the job.” 

He gave her a smile, it was adorable in its nervous uncertainty; for a man who was going to be the model for Satan, he was adorable. He gave her an awkward wave before he started to head to the door. 

“Oh wait, Bog? We should exchange numbers.” 

He turned in the process of shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, yeah—that would be a good idea.” Within seconds they had gotten their cellphones out. Soon she had the devil’s number on her phone. After he had left, she stared down at his number and thought she might be in trouble. 

* 

Bog arrived the next night, still nervous. He had taken a few drinks before heading out, deciding to spend the money on a taking a taxi to the church. When he knocked this time, the door opened quickly and there she was, the little pixie artist. Tonight she had on an over size t-shirt with a picture of Joan Jett on the front, tied at her waist and wore jeans that were rolled up past her ankles, again no shoes on her tiny cute feet. Shit, did he just think that? 

“Come in! Want something to drink?” 

Marianne smiled, turning to walk back inside. Bog followed, closing the door behind him on the chilly evening. The inside of the church was warm and cozy, the space lit up nicely. She led him into the back where there was a small kitchen. She turned, 

“I have beer or something stronger, but I have soda too.” 

Bog knew he shouldn’t drink more, but if he was going to be standing around in his birthday suit, another drink would be nice. 

“Ah, beer is fine.” 

Marianne smiled, reaching in and grabbing a couple of beers, good beer too, German. She popped the caps using the drawer handle then handed one to him. Bog took a long swallow—it was good and cold. She smiled taking a long drink of hers. 

“So I haven’t decided on a pose for Satan’s fall. I want something dramatic. Satan was a angel, the best of God’s angels.” 

Bog look another long swallow of beer. “Are you going to give him wings?” 

She nodded, sipping at her beer as she leaned against the counter. 

“Are you fine with me taking a few more photos? With different poses?” 

Bog swallowed hard from the beer bottle. “Ah, yeah it’s fine.” 

“Great. You can undress in my bedroom. This time I got a robe for you.” She smiled and Bog nodded back with a small smile of his own in thanks. 

In a few moments, Bog walked out wearing a white robe that was way too short for him, the robe barely brushing the tops of his knees. Marianne had her lights set up when he stepped out and she motioned him over. Her eyes traveled down to his knees, pressing her lips together. He looked so long and lanky in the too small robe, but it was just…damn it…his knees!! Why did the thought of touching his knees becoming so sexy? 

She shuddered, trying to knock any sensual thoughts out of her head. She had had male nude models before, what the hell was it with this guy? She pointed out where she wanted him and he slipped out of the robe once he was in position. She started having him do different poses, doing her best not to touch him. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest as she looked at him through the camera lens. 

He was just glorious and he could hold a pose for a long time without complaint or seeming discomfort, which was fantastic. After a few minutes of taking photos of him standing, she pulled over an old chaise lounger she had just recently purchased. Marianne had him sit on the arm of the chaise, one arm gripping the back, one leg bent on the couch, the other stretched long on the floor, his free arm up, long fingers splayed out as if blocking out something. She gasped when he did the pose taking several detailed shots and wide shots as she said breathlessly, 

“That’s it!!! that’s it!! Perfect, Bog, just perfect!!!” 

After taking several pictures, she slowly lowered the camera looking over her shoulder at the marble block and then back at him. This was going to be her best piece yet! 

* 

Over the next several weeks Bog gradually became more relaxed around her, though being nude was not becoming any easier. He couldn’t hide, at all. She saw every single one of his physical insecurities from his face to his entire body. As they spent more time together, Bog was becoming more and more attracted to her, which made everything worse for him. As for Marianne, she had pictures of him up all over the place in her sculpting space, so she was spending a great deal of time looking at him nude. 

She had gotten to where she knew all sorts of tiny details about his anatomy, and she was beginning to be able to read his body language, his facial expressions, those freaking gorgeous eyes. She could pick up subtle changes in his mood by changes in his body that he just couldn’t hide from her while naked. At first he made it extremely difficult to get to know him, but gradually she got him to open up to her and without thinking, she opened up to him. 

They would spend hours together after she had quit working on the marble, him sitting in the too short robe, his sexy knobby knees bent so he could lean on his elbows, holding a beer between his long fingers as he asked her questions about sculpting, her life, her… Marianne was doing the same with him, getting to know more than the physical aspects of Bog, but learning about him as a person. She laughed as he told her stories of dealing with drunks and bachelorette parties, his mother’s quest to see him happy and settled down. 

He even told her about his insecurities one night after they had both had too much to drink again. For her part, Marianne told him of her disastrous engagement, her broken heart, her sunshine sister and never wanting to find love. They had both agreed that night to never fall in love. Look what it got you, heartbroken. That particular night they had both stared at the evolving statue of Satan sharing a bit of that tragic character’s disenchantment 

* 

It was another evening after Marianne had stopped work, her hands a bit sore. They were sitting together on the lounger drinking beer and sharing a pizza. They were talking about their love-lives late on a Thursday night. Marianne had received a call while working and had picked up her cellphone without checking the display—it had been Roland. When it was clear she was going to be a little while, Bog had slipped on the robe walking into the kitchen to grab a drink when he had heard her start yelling. 

Bog quickly returned to the main area just as Marianne slammed the phone shut, tears threatening the edge of her amber eyes. He had walked over and taken the phone from her. 

“Hey, don’t let that twat get on your nerves.” He had given her that smile of his, adorable and sexy. 

Marianne had laughed. “Thanks, he just makes me so angry! And when I get super angry I cry and that makes me angrier!” 

Bog laughed. “Wanna hit me?” 

She grinned. “No, but thanks. I could use a beer though.” 

Soon they were sipping beers, Bog doing his best to get her mind off Roland. He was in his short little robe she had for him, both of them having had far too much to drink over the course of sitting there talking. That particular night they had both had too much to drink between her need to let her anger go but also because, as they sat there together, their knees almost touching, their mutual attraction had becoming so palpable between the two of them, drinking seemed to be the easiest way for the two of them to deal with it. 

They were sitting on the chaise lounge looking up at the sculpture. It was taking shape, beautifully so. Bog was really impressed. He grinned, looking up at it. Marianne gazed at his profile. She loved it when he smiled, his crooked teeth, that sharp nose, just the wrinkles around his eyes when he grinned. It made her heart flutter. She had had four beers tonight and now she and Bog were drinking daiquiris she had made after they finished. She had been resisting the urge for weeks, but now, fuck it, she wanted to touch those wrinkles at his eyes, his sharp cheekbones…she reached out stroking her thumb gently at the crow’s feet of his right eye. 

Bog jumped, startled, he turned to look at her. For his part, he had had a lot more to drink than her, having already had two shots of whiskey before getting here, and four beers while she worked. He could usually hold his drinks pretty well, but this last daiquiri was starting to hit him hard, all those little voices that told him not to be a fool, not to fall in love with her, not to kiss her, touch her, were all being forgotten as the alcohol pushed him to be braver. 

Marianne giggled. “Sorry, I like those lines along your eyes. Been wanting to touch them.” 

Bog looked confused and surprised. “Really?” 

She giggled again and blushed. “Really. You know what else I have been wanting to do?” 

She bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “I’ve been wondering what it might be like to kiss Satan.” 

Bog blushed so much his cheeks felt like they were blazing as he rolled his fingers along the glass holding the remains of his daiquiri. 

“You sure that isn’t just the fruity drink talking?” He cast a sideways glance at her. 

She put her glass down, grabbing the sides of the robe he wore, forcing him to turn. She leaned into him. Bog nearly slid off the small lounger as she pressed her lips against his. Bog knew he was being weak, but damn he had wanted to kiss her for days now. His graceful fingers reached up to cup her face, this thumbs resting at the corners of her lips. He opened his mouth to her demanding tongue. They both tasted of beers and fruity alcohol, the kiss quickly escalating into something more sensual. 

Marianne twisted around so she could better face him, yanking his robed down off his shoulders as she did so. Bog jerked. grabbing her hands.“Wait wait, I don’t–we’ve both had a lot to drink…” 

She have him a softly reprimanding glare. “Yes, we have had a lot to drink, but we have been fighting this for weeks!! I want you. I am a grown woman and I want you in my bed.” 

Bog started, his blue eyes almost perfectly round. No one had ever demanded him, wanted him! Yet here she was, Marianne, this beautiful fiery artist, amazing…she just said she wanted him in her bed?! 

Bog stuttered. “Could-could you say that again?” 

Her smile was slow and sensual. “I want you in my bed, Bogart King. I want to spend the rest of the night making love, fucking…until morning. Then I want to do it again.” 

Bog just stared at her as she stood up, starting to sashay to where she kept her bed. She stumbled a bit and giggled, though she only stopped long enough to look over her shoulder at him. She motioned at Bog with one finger, the “come hither look” she gave him burned right through, suddenly working to sober him up. 

Bog was helpless but to follow. 

* 

She moved his folded clothes off her bed, pulling back the thick queen sized quilt comforter. Bog came in a few heartbeats behind her. She walked around the room only wobbling a little as she lit vanilla candles that she kept, letting the fragrance suffuse throughout the room. 

He stood there, unable to move as she grinned. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll be right back. “ 

She indicated the bed with her eyes as she walked into the bathroom to clean up. Bog stood there staring at the bed. What should he do? He was still standing there when a naked, freshly scrubbed clean of marble dust Marianne walked back into the room. 

Bog could do nothing but hold onto the robe hanging off his shoulders and stare at her. It was as if the moon had come down to earth, her skin seemed to glow with an soft inner light, her large amber eyes were illuminated as she smiled a soft, shy smile that he had only seen rarely but always when he complimented her. He swallowed, worried that if he were to open his mouth he would be unable to make any noises that were comprehensible as human speech, but he did manage a soft, awe-struck, 

“Marianne…” 

Her cheeks were rosy with a mix of alcohol and nervousness. She slipped under the covers, holding the sheet up in invitation. Bog had to make himself move closer. Letting the robe drop to the floor was one of the hardest moves of his entire life. His eyes never left her face as he slipped under the sheets with her. Bog reached out and ran his thumb over her chin. 

“I don’t want a one night stand, Marianne. I’m not built that way.” 

She covered his hand with hers. “Neither am I, Bog. You have to be ready to put up with me for a long time.” 

He laughed softly. “I fell in love with you weeks ago.” As soon as the words slipped from his lips he went very still. Marianne swallowed, her eyes turning huge and teary. “I love you too, Bogart King.” 

Bog smiled, it was the sweetest, more adorable smile of a man in love. He gently pulled her face toward him. The kiss he gave her was filled with all the feelings of new love, true love, of those who had suffered a broken heart only to have it repaired by a new and truer love. Marianne kept her hand over his, kissing him in return with the same hope and love slowly falling back against the pillows leading Bog down with her. 

His body was warm against hers, just as she imagined he would feel, he smelled so good as her fingers finally moved into his thick hair. He brushed his lips, warm and soft against hers, his tongue gentle as it twisted with hers, his face slightly rough against her softer cheeks. 

Bog’s teeth brushed against her lips. He shifted, the hair on his chest brushed against her breasts sending shivers through her body. The fire in both of them burned low at first, building slowly as their bodies pressed against each other. He groaned softly as her hands moved along the curve of his back, then down to stroke his hips. Bog’s mouth traveled down her chin and along the slope of her neck, tongue tracing her collar. 

His lips found the rise of her breasts, his teeth scraping along her flesh. Marianne moaned, his lips warm, his tongue soft as he licked along the curve of her small breasts until he found her nipple. 

His tongue ran flat against her hardened nipple, her fingers twisting in his hair as she arched into his mouth. He was so languid as he nuzzled her breast, suckling then flicking the tip of his tongue, making her gasp. “Oh, Bog!” 

He moved to her other breast repeating the same caresses adding the tender scrape of his teeth. Liquid heat flooded from her breasts to her groin. He whispered her name against her soft skin, his warm breath tickling the small hairs of her flesh. “Marianne…Marianne…” 

Long fingers traced her waist, tips rough, but leisurely moving down her hips. He stroked the tops of her thighs, his lips on her nipple as his fingers slid between her legs. She moaned softly, his thumb moved between her folds stroking so slowly, teasing her making her body shudder. Her neck bowed with flutters of warm pleasure that rolled up from his mouth, his fingers. Marianne climaxed as his thumb rolled over her sex, causing her hips to come off the bed, at the same moment one of his fingers moved deep into her. 

Her fingers grasped his hair, the other hand digging into his shoulder. Her breath came out in pants, building again as his finger moved in and out of her tight entrance which was soon joined by a second long finger. Her hips started moving to his administrations, rocking with his movements. He sucked on her breast, flicking her nipple with his dexterous tongue until she cried out again. Bog removed his fingers from her, making her groan, her eyes squeezed closed. She felt him move lower down her body, spreading her legs as he settled between them, her eyes popped open to see him laying on his stomach kissing the soft inside of her thighs. 

“Bog? What?” 

The smile he gave her was every inch the devil of a smile. She blushed as he blew on the hair that curled around her sex. 

“You’re evil.” 

She whispered it with a lusted-filled moan of want. Bog pierced her an almost sibilant sigh, his lips close to her folds. “I am playing Satan.” 

Then he buried his tongue in her sex. She grabbed his hair crying out with a pleasure-filled shriek as he pressed her legs wide and up sucking deeply from her, licking and burying his tongue inside her. He made her come repeatedly, the church space echoing with her cries. Her toes pointed as he continued to make her yell with sensual, almost animal-like sounds of delight. He pushed onto an elbow. 

Bog continued to lick, to drink from her as his fingers once again entered her. He started building a rhythm of passionate thrusting. She thrashed with the intensity of the arousal he was creating. She tried not to pull his hair, but the damn man was making it impossible not to! She orgasm hard, shrieking again until she was dripping with her own pleasure. He sat up, running a hand over his mouth, giving her the devil of a grin. 

For a moment, Bog looked worried. “I don’t have a condom.” Marianne grinned. “Bedside table, top drawer.” He blushed reaching over, opening the drawer and grabbing one. She watched him as he sat back on his knees,worrying the side of her bottom lip. God, engorged his erection was fantastic. She stared as he rolled the condom on, his eyes rising to lock with hers. 

“I want you, Marianne.” His voice was low, his slight accent thicker with his need for her. 

“I want you, Bog.” She flushed as he noticed he was blushing! Damn! he was blushing after what he just did to her? Oh, God, she loved him!!! He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder before he angled forward. She shivered, feeling the head of his erection at her opening, one of his hands against her thigh that rested on his shoulder he entered her slowly his hand holding her thigh squeezed, pressed into her flesh. 

Marianne bowed as he entered her, Bog quivered with the intensity of entering her body pressing down on her. They two of them started rocking together her hands coming up to squeeze his shoulders. He covered her mouth with his swallowing her cries, thrusting and shoving into her warm wet body. Marianne groaned as he filled her becoming more swollen as he moved. She came with another cry that Bog captured in his mouth letting her thrill vibrate through him until his movement quickened, harder, deeper. 

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes screwed tightly closed as his orgasm hit him. Marianne felt him harden then his loud, deep moan as he climaxed made her gasp another of her own mixing with his. 

Bog released her leg, collapsing on top of her. She held on tightly, smiling then suddenly she was overcome with the intensity of her emotions. 

She started to cry. Bog panicked, sitting up. “Marianne! Oh God, Marianne did I hurt you??’ He stroked her hair back from her face, but she was smiling, tears running from the sides of her beautiful eyes. “No no you didn’t hurt me! I promise I just…I love you! I really, really love you!” Her face was a mix of joy despite the tears. Bog’s pressed his lips together, his own lip trembling softly. “I love you too, Marianne. I love you.” 

* 

Later that night, or early morning, she wasn’t sure which, they were curled together in her bed. Marianne had her back up against his chest, his arm pulled around her, fingers laced with hers and resting between her breasts. 

They were snuggled under the warmth of her comforter which was pulled up to her neck, his shoulder were sticking out of it, since he was so tall but he didn’t seem to mind. She had her eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her lips. Bog kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well, my angel.” Marianne pressed her lips together, she would not cry again as she whispered. 

“Sleep well too, my devil.”


End file.
